


Pursuit

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Dave, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas are bounty hunters by trade. They live catch to catch and deal mostly with petty thieves and, unlike others in their profession, they’re never noticed or spoken of. In fact, if one were to mention their name to a mere vandal, the response would probably be along the lines of, “Who the hell are they?” Even so, when news of a one million dollar bounty for a serial killer by the name of Lord English reaches them, they immediately take on the challenge of rising above the ranks of the unknown.</p>
<p>In taking the case, they wind up getting into the chase of a lifetime. They find themselves not only at the mercy of the open road in their pursuit, but also at the mercy of other bounty hunters. And, on top of that, they still have to outwit a prolific serial killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

Within an apartment complex known as Cedar Grove Homes, there was one building. On the first story of this singular building, there was an apartment—specifically, Apartment 109—and, in this apartment, were two very strange young men.

One of these young men was Dave Strider. He was just a tad below average height for a twenty-year-old and sported a tangle of straw blonde hair. He favored jeans over more professional slacks or shorts, and had a bit of a thing for red-sleeved baseball shirts. Additionally, neighbors often remarked about his habit of constantly wearing dark, nearly reflective, black-rimmed aviator sunglasses.

More specifically, they often remarked about how unbelievably stupid they thought it was. Of course, the neighbors weren’t keen on getting to know Dave or his partner, so they were unaware of the fact that the habit was due to Dave’s multitude of congenital vision problems. Now, Dave could have easily pointed this fact out to his rude neighbors at any point. He didn’t, though, and often stated his reason as being that he could care less about their opinion.

At this particular point in time and as the story begins, Dave happened to be poking at a bowl of microwave macaroni-and-cheese with a great amount of disinterest.

The other young man in the apartment was Karkat Vantas. As far as appearances go, he was the near-opposite of his long-time boyfriend, Dave. He had a tan complexion and his hair, though similarly messy, was a mix of dark brown and black.

As Dave poked away at his bland meal, Karkat was reading the local newspaper. At the point at which this story opens, he was reading over the section announcing new and existing bounties. “You know that shit-faced asshole who robbed the jewelry store down the street at gunpoint?” he remarked aloud as he read.

His partner didn’t answer.

He continued, nonetheless, “He just got caught. The five hundred dollar bounty was given away this morning.” Having said this, he looked over the top of his paper and glared at his companion. “Are you going to just play with your food like a poop-eating child or are you going to actually eat it?”

To this, Dave responded with a sigh, “We don’t have anything else? Something that’s not cheese-covered puke in a styrofoam cup?”

With an indignant huff, Karkat set the paper down and folded his arms across his chest. “No, we don’t. And that’s the last one. Be happy I didn’t eat it.” He rolled his eyes and, grumbling something under his breath, picked the paper back up. “We’ve seen that… That’s too low… Not worth my time…” he thought aloud as he ran through the listings. As he neared the bottom without any sign of substantial work, he began to lose hope. Then, something caught his eye.

A bounty. More specifically, a one million dollar bounty.

No, he shook his head, that couldn’t be right. Drawing the paper a bit closer, he squinted at the number once more. Still, it read as one million. “Well, fucking shit!” he exclaimed.

“What?” inquired Dave.

“I think I found a job for us.”


	2. Exordium to the Chase I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick sort-of-pre-prepared update. The chapter was halfway done when I published the intro and I finished it in the meantime, so here it is. Enjoy, I guess?

At some specific moment in time, Dave Strider found himself sitting in his and Karkat’s beaten up sedan. He found himself reclining backwards, his feet resting atop the car’s dashboard. His right hand, which happened to be fiddling with a slowly smouldering cigarette, dangled out the open window.

In this manner, he noted the bustling noises of the supermarket. The sliding doors churned open and closed with steady rapidity, and countless different conversations blew into the car from all directions. The smell of the coffee shop within the supermarket had been picked up by the gentle breeze, and it surrounded him.

With a contented smirk, he breathed in the aroma of the caffeine-infused beverages. As he did this, however, the quiet music, which had been playing from the car’s radio, turned to an irritating, high-pitched static. Dave frowned and kicked the car’s central controls, smiling once again as the music came back on. Closing his eyes, he hummed along with the song for a few minutes prior to noting the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Karkat?” he inquired.

“Hm?” His companion responded. The car shook slightly as he pried open the trunk.

“Great. You’re back. Took you damned long enough to get all that, you know. We don’t need food for fifteen armies.” His voice carried a sort of playful lilt, though his facial expression remained blank. “All that’ll go bad, too. We’re not going to be here much longer.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Karkat responded, his tone of voice hinting at mild annoyance. “We’ve still got two weeks until we can get on that flight, you know.”

The car continued to bounce about as groceries were loaded into the back, and it bounced a final, forceful time as the trunk was slammed shut. Dave, meanwhile, remained silent. His attentions had turned to what seemed to him to be some sort of fight. Out of sheer curiosity, he pulled open the door and stepped out.

“Where the—?” Karkat called to him, pausing briefly (likely, Dave assumed to think of a more family-friendly word to say in the middle of a supermarket parking lot). Failing to do so, he simply continued with, “—hell are you going? Dave!”

In return, Dave shrugged. “Looks like a fight over there. A pretty interesting one, too. This should be good.” With this said, he shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered towards the commotion.

“Dammit, Dave.” his partner responded by slamming the car door shut as loudly as he possibly could. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“And that’s all I damn well need,” snickered Dave.

“Damned pickpocket!” “Lousy thief!” The exclamations grew louder as Dave neared. Clearly, he had come across something interesting. In fact, if he remembered correctly, there was a hundred dollar bounty out for a pickpocketer in this particular area. (Of course, that didn’t mean much. He was a considerable scatterbrain, after all.)

From behind the protective barrier of his sunglasses, Dave scanned the slowly forming crowd. Blurred shapes ebbed to and fro, circling curiously about two isolated figures in the center.

An opening. The shadows shifted. Two people moved away from the scuffle. Dave took his chance.

As carefully as possible, he elbowed his way through the crowd. As he went, he uttered half-hearted apologies. After a moment or so, he emerged from the crowd.

The sound of muffled sirens approaching. The pounding of his own heartbeat.

Dave watched the forms circle one another. He noted which was spouting obscenities and which stayed silent. Sighing, he folded his arms. He only needed an opening. A break in the fight…

“Shit!” The crowd to his immediate left dispersed. The silent figure landed hard against the ground.

Again, Dave took his chance. He dealt the downed figure a hard kick in the side and a forceful stomp to the gut. Then, returning his hands to his pockets, he sighed. “That was hardly worth the effort…”

The crowd slowly dispersed. The other fighter yelled a few things, though Dave didn’t really pay much attention to him. He assumed it was the usual routine of questioning who he was and why he ruined the fight.

He waited until the sirens drew closer. He waited as they came to steady wail nearby and car doors were hurriedly opened. Then, without a word, he gathered the bounty and returned to the car.

“You took nine minutes,” Karkat commented as his partner entered the car.

Dave, in reply, shrugged. “Well, I just got money, so I think you might as well quit whining about it.”

“Hmph.” Karkat grumbled. “How much?”

“A hundred.” From his pocket, Dave produced the wad of cash he’d been given and handed it to his companion. “At least, that’s how much should be there. I don’t feel like checking.”

Karkat sighed. He ran his finger along the edge of the stack for a moment. Then, he set it aside. “Honestly, I don’t want to fucking bother with it, either. Let’s just get back home before you get yourself into something stupid, you damned shitstain.”

The car sputtered to life. The wheels rubbed against the pavement, forcing up pebbles and loose gravel, and, after a minute or two, the car began to move. It rattled out of the parking lot and onto the streets. And, as it went, Dave reveled in the breeze which swept in through the open window.

“Hey, Karkat,” he mumbled after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah?” Karkat, who happened to be driving the car, responded.

“You think we’ll get famous if we catch this guy?” Dave inquired.

“I don’t fucking know.” Karkat let forth a loud, disgruntled sigh and flicked on the car’s left indicator. It clicked steadily as he continued, “I mean, maybe. I don’t know. Why the fuck are you asking me? I don’t know the goddamn future.”

“I don’t know,” was Dave’s honest reply. “And remind me to stop asking you questions. you get so damned irritable when I do.”

“I’m driving, Dave,” grumbled Karkat.

“Hm. Whatever.” Shrugging, Dave dismissed his companion’s commentary. He pushed his sunglasses to the desired position and, then, folded his arms across his chest.

The short remainder of the drive was spent in silence.


	3. Exordium to the Chase II

Karkat Vantas. Sentimental, irritable, loud.

He met Dave in his junior year of high school. Despite initial annoyance, he eventually came to like him. As time wore on, they began dating. And so on and so forth.

Because of this sequence of events, Karkat happened to be sitting in the living room of a one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of Cedar Grove Homes. It was roughly nine in the morning, and he was busy searching through information pertaining to Lord English—the notorious serial killer with a million dollar bounty.

If his current tally was true, then this Lord English was responsible for over fifty deaths in the past thirteen years. Of course, Karkat wasn’t exactly an expert on these issues. Rather, he was a hobbyist whose true specialty was catching the criminal. Not tracking them. Still, from what was established, he wouldn’t doubt the figures.

“You awake all night again?” The voice of Dave Strider drew Karkat’s attention away from his computer.

He turned towards the blond and frowned. “No. I woke up early. Planned on sleeping all day again, jackass?” he grumbled.

“Not really.” Dave shrugged and wandered towards Karkat. “So, what’cha looking at? More shit about that English guy?” He bent over so that he was roughly five inches from the computer screen and smirked. “Yeah. Figured. That’s what you’re looking at.”

“It’s not like I’m doing something illegal,” countered Karkat.

“Yeah.” Dave shrugged and made his way to the kitchen, continuing as he began to prepare some coffee, “But we’re not investigators. We’re the idiots who catch the bad guys. We don’t do all of that psycho babble shit or research.”

With an indignant huff, the more analytical of the two argued, “You might not do that. I do. Better to know what we’re looking at than underestimate the opponent.”

Again, Dave shrugged. His fingers tapped against the edge of the counter as he waited for his morning beverage to brew. “I guess so. Not like I really care. Overestimate everyone and you’ll always have your ass covered, y’know.”

To this statement, Karkat responded with a roll of his eyes and loud sigh. “Yeah, whatever.” He closed his computer and wandered to the window. For a few moments, he watched the world outside pass by. Cars pulled out of the parking lot and people drove off to their sane, normal jobs. The often-grouchy landkeeper drove by on his clunky old lawnmower.

Eventually, he turned his attentions back to the matter at hand. “Well, we’ll have to aim pretty fucking high if we want to overestimate this guy. He’s gone thirteen years without having his damned ass hauled off to jail, and I’m pretty sure he’s not going to just go along with getting arrested.”

“Well of damn course he wouldn’t,” Dave laughed, “That’s why the bounty’s so high. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

Frowning, Karkat rebuffed, “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Course you wouldn’t.” The blond shrugged and nudged the coffeemaker.

By now, Karkat had run out of things to say. This rarity of this event was thus marked by a long stretch of awkward silence, which was broken by the beeping of the coffee brewer.

“You’re quiet,” Dave finally remarked.

“Hm,” was the brunet’s response.

“What’s eating you, asshole?” Dave pushed for an answer. A sort of half-nosy, half-concerned smirk was spread across his face.

“Nothing,” insisted Karkat.

Realizing the futility of his efforts, Dave backed down. “Fine! Don’t say I never try to help with your emotional problems.”

“I don’t,”

Dave shrugged. As was usual, he poured himself his coffee only after coating the inside of the mug with a nice serving of honey. He mixed the concoction with the long handle of a teaspoon prior to taking a tentative sip. “You know, Karkat, you’d probably be a lot less of a pain in the ass if you just had some coffee every now and then,” he commented.

In reply, Karkat shook his head. “I’d rather eat my own petrified shit than take a sip of that bean piss.”

“Bean piss?” Dave smirked. “That’s a new name for coffee. Not sure how well it would sell.” Before his companion could counter his commentary, Dave reached across the table and turned on the radio, which sat in the center of the dining area.

The room quickly filled with the sounds of the local news broadcast.

“...recent news, the notorious serial killer Lord English is blamed for another murder. In this particular case, three roommates were murdered inside their shared apartment complex. Their injuries were deemed too graphic to describe. The bounty for the supposed killer still remains the same, and competition is growing amongst bounty hunters across the country…”

Both Dave and Karkat found themselves staring at the radio. Both were on the edge of their seats.

“Competition’s gonna’ be tough, I guess?” Dave commented afterwards.

“Sounds like that,” Karkat grumbled. “Fuck.”

“Well, we can’t worry about it now, can we?” shrugged the blond.

“I guess not…”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome and I'm open to suggestions!


End file.
